My soul to Take
by Maidenstear
Summary: He was dying. Spoilerific, after manga ending.


Aneko: I'm proud of myself. I wrote this whole piece in one day, in only a few hours. That's a real accomplishment, considering my writing speed…

Disclaimer: I do not own Spiral: The Bonds of Reasoning.

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><p><strong><span>My Soul To Take<span>**

_Now I lay me down to sleep_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

_If I should die before I wake_

_I pray the Lord my soul to take_

"_I must laugh even in the dark. Even when I might die or lose everything, I must tell everyone there's hope in living."_

He is dying.

There are no other words to describe the pain that he feels. He has read books where authors describe death in an overflowing pool of eloquent words, descriptions spilling out from their pens. It isn't anywhere near as beautiful as they make it sound. It was much more elemental than that, something primitive.

He is dying.

It's a little ironic. Aniki and Madoka had just visited him that morning, and he had felt fine then. In fact he was thrilled when they told him the news. Madoka was pregnant. He could still remember the radiant look on her face when she told him he was going to be an uncle. He had forgotten his limited time. He had hoped that he might see the baby before he died, but he should have known better by now—nine months was a lot to ask for as a clone. At least they won't miss him too much. They'll be busy with the new baby.

The piano is beside his bed still. He would have reached over to play a few final notes, but it is nearly impossible considering the pain. Remembering how his brother had argued with the doctor to bring it into the hospital still makes him smile. The man had argued until he was literally red in the face, but Aniki, flawless Aniki with his quiet voice and calm smile, had won in the end. Just like he always did. Madoka complained to him constantly about never being able to win an argument against Kiyotaka-san. He just shook his head and smiled, and realizing, she would fall silent uncomfortably.

He himself felt no triumph or happiness at the time he had beaten his brother. He thought he would. He thought that an incredible weight would be lifted off of his shoulders, or that he would feel happy. Instead he felt exactly the same. Waiting for the train to come, he had looked into the sky and felt like absolutely nothing had changed. He had been fighting against his brother's will for so long that his mind, as well as his body, were just too exhausted to process any more. Surpassing Aniki's logic was something he had had to do, no matter what.

When he woke up every morning, there were always fresh irises in a vase by his bed. He had no doubt that his brother had put them there, or at least sent them. It was like he was still in denial that his little brother didn't believe in anything at all.

"You're a spectator," that girl had said to him once, back when she had still been deceiving him under Aniki's orders. "You watch the world from an empty shell. You say and do things, but the consequences have no meaning to you."

Cold words, but she hadn't gotten close to him by being a brainless fool. She was sharp, and maybe he needed her for that, being able to tell him the troth.

A petal drops from one of the irises, which he finds a little ironic, and he is still dying.

He doesn't think it's very fair. He watched his brother and others try to kill themselves, and they couldn't do it. But he, the one who wants to live, is being killed by his own body. The irony of it all is just plain sadistic.

The blade children are doing well. They constantly sent him letters and pictures, like they are reassuring him that his fight has not been in vain. A few weeks ago, he got a picture of Ryoko. She was holding a gold metal from the Olympics. On the back was scribbled a short message: _I am achieving my goal_.

He lies still, despite the pain. If he doesn't move, he can't feel as much, but it still rolls over him in sickening waves. It won't be long before he is too weak to fight it off, and he'll be swallowed by those waves, choking on them and drowning in them. He wondered if Hizumi felt the same kind of pain he felt right now. It must have been very lonely for him as well.

If they had not been clones, if they had not been enemies, he imagines they could have become great friends. But even though he says that, he never was very good at imagining the future. Especially after finding out that he was a clone who would die soon.

He could call a nurse, but he figures there isn't much of a point. He'd rather go quietly than surrounded by a flock of squawking doctors. Besides, they'd probably try to bring him back somehow. He doesn't want to live through this pain, only to fear the day he'd have to go through it again in only a few more years, or months, or days.

He considers how silent his room is. Others in his situation might scream, or cy, or call for their family members so that they can say goodbye and I Love You one last time. He dares not do any of that. His eyes are dry and his teeth clenched tightly.

Even if he wanted to see his parents again, it's not like they would care. To them, he wasn't their son, he was a replacement for Kiyotaka. He was expendable, a body double that they had dropped their interest in. Sometimes, the thought made him want to cry a little, and sometimes he just wanted to shake them and say, "_I am not my brother!_" But it wasn't like that would have changed anything. They would have kept on staring off into the distance, shutting him out of sight and sound and mind.

He thinks of Aniki and Madoka. They would be told while they were at work. They would rush over right now, if they knew that he was already fading, but they didn't know. He wouldn't let them. He wonders if anyone will tell that girl, or if she'll just come back someday and find out that he's already dead. She was on another one of her "classified" missions, this time in America. She had told him as much as she could before she left, which wasn't much, but in her line of work (whatever that was), secrecy was important. She didn't know when she would be able to come back again. She only came every once in a while, between jobs she had.

It was too bad. He had liked her. It would've been nice to see her one more time and say goodbye. She had finally told him her real name a few visits back. What was it again?

His back arches slightly, and his eyebrows draw together as he struggles to get enough air.

He wonders if they'll dissect his body after he is gone. He hopes not, but then again, he is a clone, so they probably will, whether he wants them to or not. If they do, he'd rather be cremated than be buried after they have rearranged his organs. Guinea pigs and lab rats don't really get much respect.

If he is buried, though, maybe someone will leave flowers on his grave. He would like that. It would make him feel a little more like a person and a little less like a clone. He really didn't like the word. _Clone_. Once, in a fit of boredom, he had looked it up. _Clone: A copy of a sequence of DNA, as from a gene, that is produced by genetic engineering._

A copy. Not original. He didn't pick up the dictionary again. But he had lived. Maybe not the most that he could have, but no one could take away that fact. His life was his, different from Aniki's.

Maybe that girl would come put flowers on his grave. He had never found out how old she really was, but it didn't matter too much.

His vision is starting to fade, and suddenly all the strength leaves him. His heartbeat is terribly slow in his ears.

I'll be going now, he whispers, even though no one is around to hear him.

_"Your logic is…flawless. However, from other' point of view, it's nothing but sweet-talk from someone who's experienced happiness. Thus, it won't be able to get across. If you want your logic to get across, you must become the unfortunate one, the one who can laugh contently even when they know what cruel fate awaits them."_

One tear leaks out of his eyes and makes its way down his cheek, stopping where the corners of his mouth turn up in a peaceful smile.

_Oh yeah…I remember…_

_That girl…Her name is—_

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><p>Aneko: I don't own the poem at the beginning. Definition of clone provided by dictionary . com. Which I also don't own. The other quotes are from the Spiral manga.<p> 


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